


Little Rose

by chutzpaz



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/F, Femslash, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Romance, Smut, Unrequited Love, just pretend that joffrey doesn't exist and everyone is happy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-17
Updated: 2014-04-17
Packaged: 2018-01-19 18:21:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1479454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chutzpaz/pseuds/chutzpaz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shae doesn't trust the little rose queen that Sansa is so enthralled by, and has no intention of leaving them alone together. Sansa is perplexed and slightly irritated; Margaery, on the other hand, isn't fooled, but she finds herself intrigued by this unusual handmaiden. From the kinkmeme prompt <a href="http://asoiafkinkmeme.livejournal.com/22142.html?thread=14318718#t14318718">(x)</a>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Little Rose

"I do not like the look of her," Shae says.

Sansa is puzzled. "What's not to like? She's sweet and charming and beautiful. She's everything." Sansa sighs dreamily. Shae rolls her eyes.

"Not everything. That smile," Shae counts off on one finger. "It always looks like it is hiding something. Her eyes," she counts off on another, "They do not match what her mouth is saying. Her—"

"Shae, please," Sansa says, interrupting her.  "Margaery has been nothing but kind to me. You have no reason to distrust her."

Except, Shae thinks, the lingering touches that Margaery always seems to leave on Sansa, fingers trailing at the nape of her neck while she braids Sansa's hair, hands brushing Sansa's cheek in what could be misconstrued as a sisterly gesture, legs intertwined beneath the table when they have tea together. It's sickening. Sansa doesn't notice. Shae does.

"Forgive me if I distrust everyone. You can never be too careful, my lady."

Sansa sighs. "Well, trust _me_. I trust her."

Shae's eyebrows crease and she bites her lip, hesitating to accept it. If she's learned anything in her years as a whore, people are pliant. Their final decisions are not always so final.

 Sansa crosses her arms. "Well? What is it now?"

"I do not like when you are alone with her."

After studying Shae for a moment, Sansa throws up her arms and turns away. "Fine, fine. If it makes you feel better you can accompany me this afternoon. I don't know what you're so worried about. It's just tea."

Shae can sense Sansa's exasperation, but she doesn't care. "It does make me feel better," she says gently, smiling to herself. It really does.

*

Margaery's quarters are sunlit, bright and airy and as isolated as a room can get in the Red Keep. It smells of flowers and innocence and seduction and Shae doesn't like it at all. Every other time they've had tea, it's been in Sansa's own quarters or with Margaery's many cousins. This was the first time they were to be alone. It just didn't sit well with Shae, and upon entering the room she's glad she insisted on coming with Sansa. The bed looks a little too well-made for only sleeping; the air, a little too sweet to be natural.

There is a single rose on the table, along with two cups for tea. Sansa gushes about the beauty of it all.

"Had I known we would be having a guest, I would have brought another cup," Margaery says, appearing behind them.

Shae starts, but quickly regains composure. "My lady," she says in greeting. "It will not be required."

"Well, good. I was actually hoping for some alone time with Sansa," Margaery says brusquely.

"I would prefer to stay."

Margaery looks annoyed. She has a look in her eye, the same one that makes Shae distrust her.  "Well, it's not up to me to decide, is it? Sansa?" Margaery looks to her in askance.

Sansa hesitates, eyes flickering between Shae and Margaery. Finally she says, still tentatively, "She can stay."

Margaery turns to Shae, irritation clear on her face now. "Well," she says, "then you must forgive me if I only have two chairs."

Shae smiles cheekily. "That is alright. I will sit on the bed." Two can play, Shae thinks.

Margaery blink, lips parting in surprise, before giving a half-laugh. Her expression becomes more amused, an incredulous smile gracing those very lips. It's the first time Shae has seen her eyes match the rest of her face. There's no more irritation, only the knowing smile of someone who has agreed to play the game.

*

"Sansa," Margaery croons, voice melodious and soft. Shae hates it. "Another lemon cake?"

"No, thank you," Sansa says politely. "I'm so full. I do appreciate it though. You have been so very kind to me." She shoots a pointed glance to Shae. Shae smiles wryly in return. She has made herself comfortable on the bed.

Margaery smiles warmly. "Of course, dear Sansa. You are a good friend to me. Perhaps more," she says, bringing her hand up to brush Sansa's.

Sansa's breath hitches, so lightly as to be almost imperceptible. "You mean like... sisters?" she asks.

Shae has to physically clap her hand over her mouth to keep from laughing. Margaery shoots her a dark glare, and Sansa just looks confused.

"Margaery?" she says.

"Ah.. yes. Sisters. Maybe." Margaery says, though it's clear her thoughts have wandered. "Perhaps it is time you go. I'm sure you have a lot to do for, ah... I'm sure you have a lot to do." Shae delights in seeing the perfectly poised queen-to-be in such a state of disarray. She positively revels in it.

Sansa, on the other hand, looks wounded. Puzzlement and hurt flash across her face. But she doesn't push it. "I'm sure I do," she says, standing and hitching up her skirt. "Next time, then."

"Yes, next time," Margaery calls out, always polite, but Sansa has already fled.

When Sansa is gone, Margaery buries her head in her hands with a soft sigh. Even that looks graceful. She has already recovered from her shameful flustered state earlier.

Shae can't help it. She bursts out in a fit of giggles, shoulders shaking and laughs tumbling out from behind her hands, because as much as she wants to go after Sansa she can't help but revel in the utter failure of Margaery's seduction.

"Oh, yes, it's very funny," Margaery says. "You laugh as if you have a better chance."

Shae's giggles come to a halt. She sits up from her half-lying position, instead leaning against the back of the bed. "I do," she simply says. It's so casual and it infuriates Margaery, at least from what Shae can tell. The change is subtle, a shift in Margaery's normal demeanor, a slight furrowing of her eyebrows, tenseness in her shoulders, darkening of her eyes. Shae can see now how good an actor Margaery is— if she wasn't looking for it, she would never have noticed the difference.

In response, Margaery makes her way over to the bed, sitting down primly on the edge. "You're quite bold for a handmaiden." The change is more pronounced, now. Gone is the elegant and proper girl that sat across from Sansa at tea. Margaery has always been a rose, but now she shows her thorns.

"Am I?" Shae asks. "I do not suppose you will do anything about it."

"I could easily replace you. Perhaps you would be better far away from Sansa. In the kitchens, maybe. You look like a girl who has worked in kitchens."

"I am a _woman,_ " Shae makes sure to emphasize, "who has never worked in a kitchen once in her life. I am a woman who has chosen to work in the bedrooms of men instead. Or the bedrooms of other women, if they fancy."

By this point, Margaery's former rigid pose has relaxed. She has made herself more comfortable now, lying down and propping herself up with her elbow. Shae, meanwhile, has shifted closer and closer. She can almost hear Margaery's heart pounding.

"You _are_ quite a woman," Margaery admits, and Shae thinks she can hear the barest breath of intrigue, the slightest suggestion that Shae is getting her attention. Shae shifts even closer.

"But," Margaery continues, "That still won't get you Sansa."

Shae's eyes narrow, and she brings her face directly up to Margaery's. She can feel her breath, warm and soft, and yes, it is her heartbeat that she heard. "You will not either," she whispers into Margaery's ear.

"Just how bold are you?" This is said with amusement, but even more so, it's a challenge.

Shae enjoys challenges.

She hooks one leg over Margaery's body, straddling her. She pushes Margaery to lay flat on the bed, moving down along with her so that their bodies are pressed flush against one another. Margaery gasps.

"As bold as you want," she says. Margaery says nothing, only letting her eyes flutter closed and relaxing her lips. Shae takes advantage of this, moving in to press her lips to Margaery's, so that now their whole bodies lie in line with each other. Shae's full lips against Margaery's thin ones, tanned skin against her pale complexion, ample chest against barely-there breasts, but all soft and all warm. Margaery's lips are the warmest of all.

"Oh," Margaery breathes when Shae finally pulls away.

"More, my lady?" Shae smiles mischievously.

Margaery licks her lips and nods. Shae brings her lips back down, gentler this time, but doesn't start at Margaery's lips. Instead, she presses tiny kisses along her neck, moving upwards until she kisses her properly. Shae relishes every little victory, every time she can get Margaery to abandon her propriety in a gasp or a muffled moan or a hitched breath. She loves taking her apart.

And then, suddenly, there's a shift. Suddenly Margaery is kissing back, opening her mouth in rhythm with Shae's, pressing upwards. Asserting control. Shae should have expected it. The little rose would never allow a serving girl to control her. She would never allow anyone to control her. That is why she is fit to lead, Shae thinks.

And lead she does. Margaery grips Shae's arms, pushing her up and to the side, so that they roll over on the bed. Margaery rolls on top, sitting on her knees on top of Shae, hip against hip, legs on either side of Shae's thighs, pressing in to hold them there. She leans forward so that they can continue to kiss, and it's more forceful now, rougher. Shae kisses back with equal force. Margaery doesn't seem to expect this, but she leans into it anyways, opening her mouth to allow Shae's tongue in.

Ultimately, it's still Shae who makes the first move, hand straying from her sides to run along the small of Margaery's back, brush against the curves of her waist, grip her by the hips. In response, Margaery rolls her hips in and continues to deepen the kiss. Shae runs her hand down to Margaery's leg, pulling up her flowing skirts as she goes along, until her hand rests on the naked skin of Margaery's inner thigh.

Margaery moans. Shae's other hand reaches up, towards Margaery's breast, but she smacks Shae's hand away.

"Cheeky," Margaery says breathily, breaking the kiss.

Shae moves her hand upwards, from Margaery's thigh, to pinch the soft mound of flesh above. Margaery yelps. "Cheeky," Shae repeats.

Margaery giggles. She sits up, taking in the sight of Shae. And what a sight _she_ must be, if Margaery can look like _that_.  Her lips are red, cheeks flushed and glowing, hair falling out of her braid. She looks ravished.

"Not so proper now, my lady," Shae says, reaching up to untie the ribbon that holds Margaery's braid in place. Her hair fans out, waterfalling over her body, smooth and silky to the touch. Shae runs her hands through it.

"Not now," Margery says, and unties the laces at the neck of Shae's dress. She pushes it down, revealing the swell of Shae's breasts, and leans down to suck a little, kiss a little, cupping her breasts in her hands, taking a nipple into her mouth. Shae sighs and shifts her body upwards to meet the touch, wanting more and more. Margaery's kisses are teasingly light and Shae wants it harder.

When Margaery lifts her mouth from Shae's skin, it's not without protest, until she unbuckles the belt around Shae's waist and pushes away the excess fabric. Of course, Shae wears nothing underneath. Margaery breathes out heavily in approval and a little awe. She hesitates a moment before shrugging off her own dress, letting it fall in a circle of cloth on top of Shae. Shae doesn't know why Margaery hesitates, because she is exquisitely beautiful, breasts small but nipples pink and rosy and gorgeous, body thin but hips curving and captivating.

Shae pushes the cloth of Margaery's dress aside and Margaery wiggles her hips to get it off even faster. Even that movement is a seduction. Every one of Margaery's movements is, and she knows it, too. Knows just how gorgeous she looks. Shae brings her hand up again, to run it through her chestnut curls, using it as a handhold when Margaery brings her mouth down to Shae's nipple. Shae gasps, a murmured "more" escaping her mouth.

"Patience," Margaery says, smiling against Shae's skin.

And then she moves lower, kissing the smooth skin on the underside of her breast, kissing down her ribs and across the expanse of her stomach, kissing down, down, down. When her mouth finally reaches Shae's wetness, Shae can't help but moan. Margaery is doing the taking apart now, and Shae would like to care but how can she care when Margaery's tongue is doing _that_?

Margaery's mouth is hot and wet and amazing. She clearly knows what she is doing. Shae, despite herself, feels impressed. And when Margaery flicks her tongue out, running it roughly against Shae's clit, she only feels _good_. It's good. So good. She bucks her hips lightly, meeting Margaery's mouth, so that Margaery chuckles at Shae's sudden eagerness.

It's not long until Shae is bucking even more, twisting her hips, gripping the bedsheets so hard her knuckles turn white, toes curling, back arching, mouth opening in a gurgled moan. She shuts her eyes, squeezing them so tight she sees colors dancing behind her eyelids. When, finally, she opens them, the colors form into the shape of Margaery, wearing that same sly grin that made Shae distrust her so.

Shae is panting hard, trembling with the force of her orgasm, and Margaery has not even broken a sweat. It's unfair. Shae will fix it.

She grabs Margaery by the hair and pulls her down to meet her lips. She kisses her, hard, tasting herself on Margaery's tongue.

Margaery pulls back. "What," she says breathily.

This time it's Shae's turn to grin. "Of course you must allow me to reciprocate, my lady."

To Shae's surprise, Margaery blushes. "You mean you will..." A hand reaches down to cup her womanhood.

Shae laughs in surprise. "Do not tell me you have never had it done to you?" Margaery shakes her head. "But you are so skilled," Shae says.

Margaery beams for a split second, and it's beautiful and bright and then she catches herself and looks away. "I suppose," she says airily.

Shae smiles. "Allow me to be your first, then." But as she tries to shift downwards, Margaery blocks her still. "What is it?" she huffs, impatiently.

"Not now," Margaery says. She moves back down to kiss Shae. It's a good distraction, but Shae is smarter than that.

"We will start slow," she says around Margaery's lips. She rolls them over. Margaery pushes against her, but Shae leans in for another kiss and Margaery goes along with it. Shae moves one hand between them, tracing the skin along Margaery's hips and stomach, then slips it even lower. Margaery bites Shae's lip hard, almost enough to draw blood, but she doesn't protest.

Shae strokes across Margaery's clit with one finger, wet with Margaery's own juices. Margaery moans and opens her legs to receive her touch. Shae takes this as encouragement, slipping one, then two fingers into her wetness. It's tight. Wedded but not bedded, Shae remembers. The rumors are true.

But that doesn't make Shae any more careful with her. She fucks Margaery with her fingers, thumb rubbing her clit hard and fast as she deftly scissors her fingers inside of her.

Even though they're still kissing, Margaery constantly breaks away to gasp or to moan or to whimper. She's vocal, and Shae finds that she enjoys it. After each time Margaery breaks away, her lips crash up against Shae's with renewed vigor, making their kisses that much more intense. More so than the slow, languid kisses that they had given each other earlier. Margaery's kisses are rough and raw and demanding, and her hips are the same, asking for more with every movement of Shae's fingers.

She is the queen, and who is Shae to deny her? Shae crooks her fingers within Margaery, and she _screams_. Margaery claps her hands over her mouth, trying to stifle her traitorous tongue, but the movement of her hips against Shae betray her need. So she gives up, instead gripping Shae's shoulders for support. Shae continues to rub that golden spot inside of Margaery, and Margaery continues to moan and shake. She finally comes with another scream, fingernails scraping down Shae's back and leaving long, thin lines all the way down.

Margaery trembles against Shae as Shae slides her slick fingers out of her. "Oh," she says.

Shae is not done. She kisses her again and Margaery is so pliant, so willing in her post-orgasmic bliss that she hardly notices when Shae breaks away and slips her fingers into Margaery's mouth. Margaery says nothing, only sucking on them and looking at Shae through half-lidded eyes. Shae sucks in a breath.

"My lady," she breathes.

"Forgive me," Margaery says once Shae has removed her fingers, "I don't even know your name."

"Shae."

"Shae," Margaery says. She mouths it again wordlessly, getting the taste for it. Shae only smiles.

"Don't think I don't notice, Shae," Margaery says. "The lingering touches you always leave on Sansa. How your fingers trail at the nape of her neck while you braid her hair. How your hand brushes her cheek—"

Shae has to laugh, it's so absurd. "That is what I notice of you!" She falls back, off of Margaery, giggling. Margaery looks puzzled for a moment before she joins in, laughing lightly at first and then louder, shoulders shaking with the effort of holding it in, and soon they are both hysteric, wiping tears off their cheeks and bursting into another bout of giggles every time they think it's over.

"I suppose we're in the same boat, then," Margaery says when they've finally stopped.

"Stuck at sea," Shae says.

"With no food."

"In winter."

That brings another bout of laughter.

"We're both fools," Margaery says quietly, looking wistfully out of her window.

"Yes," Shae agrees. They are.

*

Shae finally returns to Sansa's chambers a little before dinner. She hopes Sansa won't notice the smell of sex around her, or her rumpled clothing, or her mussed hair. But Sansa doesn't notice. She's too worked up.

"Oh, Shae, there you are," she says.

"Sorry I am late, my lady," Shae apologizes.

Sansa doesn't hear. "What did you think about today? Perhaps I pushed it too far with Margaery. Oh, why did I suggest sisters? She must think I'm being too overbearing. Oh, Shae. Do you think she doesn't like me anymore?"

"I am sure she still does," Shae says soothingly. Oh, Sansa. If only she knew.


End file.
